Both of my babies were born during the glorious month of April and as March comes to a close and their birthdays approach I’m reminded that for me, this time of year will always be associated with pregnancy.
I love my children, but I hated being pregnant. I felt like I’d been invaded by an alien being from the moment of conception and I suffered from morning sickness and debilitating nausea for most of the 10 (let’s be honest) months of pregnancy. It was so bad that I couldn’t even bear to associate with pregnant women who professed to enjoy their pregnancies. Their joy made me feel worse and resentful.
On the east coast, moving from March to April is also like a pregnant pause that’s pregnant with possibilities and everywhere you look there are signs that winter’s coming to a close, with the promise Spring is on its way. The days are longer, buds are sprouting, colors beyond white, black and grey return to the earth’s palette and the sun’s a bit stronger as the winter’s wind finally begin to loose its bite.
It’s such a lovely time of year.
1 comment:
I'm with you on this one. Wrote a whole post recently on how I wish to have another baby but could do without the pregnancy part of getting one. Being pregnant is miserable business. I'm sure to get clobbered by someone for saying that but the only thing that makes it bearable is of course the baby growing inside.
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